Death's Secret Army
by victoriacorn
Summary: Death decides to take a more active role in Dean's fight with good and evil. Little did Dean know that Death has an entire army at his disposal. Takes place at Supernatural Season 9 mid-season finale and in Bleach vol. 58, chapter 516. Chapter 9 now up! Journey to Squad 4, some familiar faces. Dean finally wakes up. SERIOUS SPOILERS for current events in Bleach.
1. Chapter 1

Dean tried to pull himself up to a sitting position. The weight of his guilt did more to hold him down than the dull pain of the air knocked out of his lungs. He looked across the floor where Kevin laid, his empty eye sockets staring off into nothingness. This was all his fault. This wasn't just a screw-up that he could find some way to work out. This was a long line of broken promises. Lies thrown on top of other lies.

Kevin was dead and he had no one to blame but himself.

He wanted to stay where he was, just lay there and give up but he couldn't. He didn't know if he missed some basic part of himself that would allow him to quit. He just couldn't do it. He had to keep moving. He had to keep fighting, even if he didn't know how. He just had to. He brought himself to his knees and reached out for Kevin's hand. The fingers felt warm against his calloused touch. Grief began to build up inside him, like a scream that would erupt from his throat. It built upward straining for release until the hint of a shadow crept from over his shoulder. He whirled away from his friend's body in one movement to face his new intruder.

Death stood before him.

The sight of this enigmatic entity nearly sent a physical shock through Dean. Nothing happened without a reason and he had enough intelligence to see the reason. His arm reached reflexively in front of Kevin's body. "No," he sputtered, as if he could somehow stop the inevitable. "Why are you here?"

Death smiled wanly and folded his hands in front of the jacket of his well tailored suit. "That, Dean Winchester," he replied coolly, "should be obvious."

Dean struggled to his feet. Maybe he could still fix this. He had to try. What more did he have to lose? He shook his head and tried to put himself between Death and Kevin. "This was my fault. Take me instead."

Death sighed and met Dean's eyes like a parent scolding a child. "That's not how this works and you know it."

Something snapped inside him at this refusal. The grief and guilt melted together instantly into rage. "Then why appear to me at all?!" Dean demanded. "I don't have to see you for you to do what you do."

Death tilted his head as he considered the question, with the same regard as a shoe about to crush a helpless ant. "True," he replied, "but I came to talk to you." He gestured to the open door behind him. "Come with me, please."

Dean stubbornly planted his feet to the marble floor beneath him. He did not like it when anyone told him what to do and his hold on sanity and reason had become quite tenuous in the past few minutes. He wrapped himself up in his anger so tightly that he didn't notice that the word 'please' was spoken. "Why? I don't have to see you. I sure as hell don't need to give you your privacy." He knew that he looked like a petulant child but he really didn't care.

Death pursed his lips, stifling another patient sigh. "It is a matter of protocol," he said, "I am not personally doing the reaping. I would prefer that those who do, do not see me."

"Why not?" Dean frowned skeptically. "They work for you."

Death swept his hand once again towards the door in invitation. "Let's just say that I am not one to micromanage."

Stalling. That's what he was doing. Stalling for time. Stalling to try to get his way. Was this really as pointless as it felt? Kevin was dead. Sam was gone. Did anything he did in this moment matter at all? Shrugging in defeat, Dean Winchester followed Death into the side office.

Death ran his hand along the cherry finished desk. To Dean, he appeared to prefer not to face his audience as he spoke. "While you may find my function in this reality distasteful, I do serve a purpose." He picked up a glass paperweight and looked through its surface as he explained. "I am a force of balance, between the living and the dead as well as between good and evil."

Dean snorted derisively, folding his arms across chest and leaning his back against the closed door. "You've been doing a bang up job."

Holding the paperweight up to the light, Death feigned interest in the object in his hand. The words came out as if rehearsed. Who else did he have to explain himself to? "There are rules," he said, "carved into the fabric of time. My power is limited."

"We've all got problems," Dean replied, "Get to the point."

At this, Death faced him. The paperweight returned to the desk. "Both sides have disregarded the balance, breaking rules without thought to the cost." He turned to him fully now giving Dean his full intense attention. "Of all those currently engaged in this conflict, you are the only one concerned with maintaining balance."

Dean swallowed, letting his arms fall to his sides. He began to realize all of the sudden where he stood in the world and just who he was talking to. Whatever was happening, he couldn't be a part of it. Death had picked the wrong guy. He had screwed up. Kevin was dead and it was all his fault. He looked down, knowing how ashamed he must have looked. To someone such as Death, his desires must look pitifully small. "I just want to get my brother back."

Death almost smiled. "I never said your support for my cause was intentional," he said. "Nevertheless, I am giving you aid."

Dean looked back up incredulously. "You're going to help me?" He felt a sudden fluttering pressure in his chest and had the vague sense that his heart had begun to beat harder. Hope. Just a little bit but it was there.

Death shook his head reaching across Dean to open the door once again. "Not directly," he replied. He stepped closer and leaned down as if he were sharing a conspiratorial secret. "But I do believe it's time to start breaking some rules of my own."

The door opened and Death vanished. Dean almost questioned whether the entire exchange took place. He wouldn't have been at all surprised if he had imagined it, his grief-stricken, guilt-ridden mind having concocted it to drive him towards madness. He couldn't let that happen. He didn't have the luxury of insanity. He had to save his brother. He had to get revenge for Kevin.

Kevin. He had to bury Kevin. He died as a hunter would. He deserved a hunter's burial. Resolute in his new self-imposed mission, he stepped through the doorway to begin his duty. Immediately he felt the sensation of another presence. He looked to where he had left Kevin's body.

Standing in its place, disheveled as always, scruffy and uneasy with intelligent dark eyes staring back at him, stood Kevin Tran.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean pulled the younger man into a bone-crushing embrace as hysterical relief washed through him. Tears sprang from nothing in the corners of his eyes even as his mouth stretched into a wide grin. He could feel the solid, realness he held. The warmth of his existence. For a slender moment he could sense the oppressive cloud of despair lift. Words of gratitude for a higher power he disdained nearly stumbled out of him. He had not known how deeply he had fallen until he had caught sight of his friend. His friend. How could he let go?

But then he felt him stiffen as he softly said, "I'm sorry."

Dean's arms fell to his sides as he backed away from him. He didn't have to guess. He should have known. Nothing in his life worked out this easily. "You're not Kevin." Not a question but a conclusion.

The thing that looked so much like Kevin met his eyes and simply said, "No."

Something broke inside of him then. His voice was quiet but held every threat he could form as he pushed it through clenched teeth. "Of all the faces you could have worn, you sick sonofabitch." Dean's fist flew towards Kevin's head before he even realized he had thrown the punch.

Kevin's form moved quickly, faster than he could see it. He dodged his right hook and somehow managed to clasp the fingers of that hand and twist his arm behind his back. With his fingers stretched to the breaking point, Dean was pinned to the floor, unable to move. The movement happened in the blink of an eye. He heard Kevin's voice in his ear. Calm, poised, more collected than the young man ever sounded in his life. "I understand that you are upset but I can't allow you to harm this body," he said. "Without it, you would not be able to see me or hear me. I am here to help you." With that the hold on Dean's fingers released and he was able to brace his arms beneath him.

Embarrassed that he had been so easily overcome Dean tried to force civility into his voice and failed. "What are you?" he spat. He turned to get to his feet and saw that the being that looked like Kevin had reached a hand down to help him up. Dean swatted the offering away.

The young man nodded slightly and replied, "I am shinigami." The expression Dean knew he had on his face showed nothing but confusion as he got to his feet. The word meant nothing, so the young man added. "Roughly translated, it means 'soul reaper'."

Dean picked up on the one word he understood and blew a breath out in disgust. "Reaper?" he huffed, "how the hell is that supposed to be helpful?"

Kevin's face frowned. "I'm nothing like the reapers you've encountered before. I'm shinigami," he repeated as if all the explanation he needed was in that one word.

Dean rolled his eyes. Saying the same word again didn't help the situation. He sighed, "But why Kevin?"

The shinigami took a breath and began to explain. "I have two objectives in helping you, Mr. Winchester." Dean huffed in disgust at the formalization of his name and walked towards the main room of the bunker. The shinigami followed and continued to talk. "I am to help you retrieve your brother. If the angel inhabiting him sees me in this form, he will return."

Dean stopped and faced the shinigami. The plan seemed sound. For whatever reason, the angel had targeted Kevin. If 'Kevin' were still alive, that angel would believe that he had somehow failed. He would come back and bring his unwitting host with him. But then what? "Can you evict that bastard from Sam?" he asked.

The shinigami glanced down and away, having that uncertain look that Kevin held so often. Dean suddenly felt heartsick. "I think so," he replied.

"You think so?!" Dean spat the words back at him.

The defiance and confidence flashed back in Kevin's eyes. "Yes," he replied, "I have several different methods that should work."

Dean shook his head. "You're not filling me with confidence, Kevin." He met the shinigami's eyes at the slip and then turned away again. He didn't mean to do it. The discomfort in the younger man's stance and the banter that had begun to develop had thrown him back to the familiar relationship. It was only an instance but then reality came back with the airing of two syllables. This wasn't Kevin. Kevin was dead and it was all his fault. "You said two objectives," he said suddenly, trying to return to the business at hand.

"Yes," the shinigami replied, "the translation of the angel tablet."

Dean grinned wryly. "I don't know if you noticed but the angel took it with him."

Acknowledging this with a nod, the shinigami replied. "I am aware of that." They had returned to the long conference table in the main room. Kevin's fingers reached down and picked up a worn, frayed notebook. The perfect prop to complete the disguise as the now dead prophet. "Fortunately, Kevin Tran took a great deal of notes."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "Notes he couldn't even translate himself."

The shinigami skimmed through the notebook and Dean looked down at the drawings Kevin had committed to paper only days before. He had called them 'doodles' then. "I may not be a prophet but I have resources that the angels couldn't even imagine." He almost seemed to boast.

"Really?" Dean remarked skeptically from over the shinigami's shoulder.

"This looks like Proto Elamite," he said almost to himself.

For the first time since they began their exchange, Dean felt a flush of hope. He stepped closer, peering down at the pictographs as if they suddenly could translate themselves. "You can read this?" he asked.

"No," he responded and the surge of hope deflated. "But I at least know where to start."

Dean turned away. "Well, good luck with that," he said. "If you get stuck, Crowley could give you some pointers if your price is right."

The shinigami dropped the notebook back to the table. "Crowley?"

Dean looked back at him, surprised at the sudden ignorance. "Yeah, Crowley," he answered, "You know, the king of hell. We've got him chained up in the back."

The shinigami stepped towards him with all seriousness. Incredulity bordering on panic. "You have him here?"

A grin broke across Dean's face. "Well, apparently you don't know everything."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean slid the heavy steel door aside to reveal the demon within.

Crowley sat at a table in near total darkness with a single shaft of light washing over him from above. He regarded his visitors with a childish smirk before his gaze settled on the younger of the two. He frowned and narrowed his eyes as he studied him closely. Without looking away, he commented, "What's with the shinigami in the Kevin Tran suit?"

Before Dean could even register Crowley's words, the body standing next to him crumpled to the floor. Whatever force that had given it the illusion of life had suddenly just disappeared. Kevin's name pushed silently past his lips. As he reached down to check the body he was only barely aware that Crowley was still speaking.

"If you would take a moment, love, just to check, you will see," Crowley paused and seemed to catch his breath as he pulled his head back as far as he could. He seemed to be staring down at something aimed at his throat. "I am quite immobilized." He looked up for a moment to catch Dean's eye. The look of complete confusion on the hunter's face caused him to smile in amusement. "Dean, would you might explaining to your associate here that I pose no threat to you."

Dean examined the scene before him, the lifeless body at his feet, the demon across from him pulling away from something unseen. The shinigami. "He's bound," he said to the unseen force in the room. "There are devil's traps that keep him still and the chains around him are enchanted." He looked around the small room, hoping to see a flicker of…something.

"See, my dear, I am quite at the hunter's mercy," Crowley seemingly purred to something in front of him only he could see. "And at yours as well. You have made your 'point' eloquently," he added, enunciating the word 'point' as if it were a pun. "Now, love, you are being rude to your host since apparently he can't see you without your gigai."

Dean watched in rapt attention as Crowley visibly relaxed and the form of Kevin Tran quietly came back to life beside him. He looked up at Dean for a quick moment and then looked down and away, almost embarrassed. "I apologize," he said with Kevin's voice.

Dean swallowed and nodded slightly. The shinigami's action made him think momentarily of Castiel and his awkwardness at playing human. "Next time, just give me a head's up, okay?" he replied, thinking that maybe his beginnings with the angel would serve as a good model as how he dealt with the shinigami.

"Death must really like you, Dean Winchester," Crowley taunted now that he wasn't under the shinigami's threat. "He sent you a shinigami, and not just anyone. Noooo," he cooed, widening his eyes from emphasis, "a lieutenant. I couldn't see her armbadge from this angle so I can't tell you what squad but she is a pretty, little thing."

Dean fell back into stunned silence as he took in the demon's words. Too many words. Too many concepts to take in. Too much.

"Where did you learn about us?" Kevin's voice demanded.

"Where do I get most of my knowledge?" Crowley asked rhetorically, "Hell, of course." Despite the chains around his wrists, the demon steepled his hands in front of him as if he were running a board meeting. "A few years ago, there was an incursion in hell. A being of immense power came in and attempted to trash the place."

"One of your demons had taken an innocent, young girl," the shinigami said through clenched teeth.

"I didn't say that the attack was unprovoked," Crowley remarked smoothly. "That's not the point. Imagine my surprise when I found out that this freakishly powerful creature was a shinigami, a special kind of reaper." His eyebrows rose as his smile grew. "I had to learn everything I could."

Dean finally found his voice. "How come I've never heard of them before?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound like a petulant child. "I've dealt with angels, demons, reapers. Hell, I've even fought gods."

The shinigami looked away again, embarrassed. So strange to see this on Kevin's face-now HER face. Crowley answered for her. "Apparently they were too powerful. Death is not supposed to have that kind of power, so for the sake of cosmic balance he confined them." He leaned forward now, angling himself to try to catch her eye. "But you lot haven't been idle. You've had your own wars to wage."

The shinigami leaned his-her hands on the table separating her from the demon. She infused Kevin's voice with an edge and threat the young man could never have managed on his own. "Who told you all of this?" she asked.

"I'm sure you're a smart girl," he answered. "You can work it out. Who do you know who could have fallen to hell? Someone with a high enough rank to know the inner workings of Seiretei. Someone so racked with guilt that he jumped at the chance to unburden his sins to anyone who would listen."

She released a breath and hung her head, realization coming to her. "Tosen," she breathed.

"Yes, Captain Tosen," Crowley acknowledged with a satisfied grin. "What a stoic warrior, and he lost," the demon marveled. "He didn't live to see the end of the Winter War. What happened? Reality didn't implode. No Japanese cities wiped off the map, so I assume your side won, but how? How could you have had anyone powerful enough?"

Dean watched the shinigami flex the fingers of Kevin's hand and recognized the signs of someone who had had enough of Crowley's machinations. Any moment she could lose her fierce control over her temper and –what? He had no idea what would happen. Her kind were confined because they were too powerful. He took hold of Kevin's arm and steered her back towards the door. "That's it," he said, "Visiting hours are over."

"But I have more questions!" Crowley protested, grinning maniacally. Even as Dean pulled the steel door shut, they could still hear the demon's barrage. "I know Aizen didn't die! So what happened to him?" He knew exactly the effect he was having on the shinigami. "What about the captains in Hueco Mundo? What happened to them? Tell me what happened! You have to know! You're still standing! You had to bear witness!"

The shinigami stood seething. Dean gave her an encouraging shove away from the jail for the King of Hell. Without regard to her surroundings, she walked along with him, until the taunting words began to drift into silence.

"So," Dean began, seeming to size her up, "under that geek boy costume, you're a girl?"


	4. Chapter 4

Dean rummaged through the array of liquor bottles in an alcove off of the kitchen. He simply didn't know what to do with himself. He had left the shinigami pouring over Kevin's notebooks on the angel tablet and looking over the programming for the table in the main room. He didn't want to stay with her. She seemed to have some idea what to do and he would be no help to her at all. Not too different from when Kevin was truly alive. Kevin studied and translated and Dean hovered occasionally and brought food. He didn't even know if the shinigami ate.

Sam was gone. The shinigami believed that she could work with the programming of the table's alert system to rig it up to track the angels and that included the angel who had hijacked his brother. Castiel was possibly on his way to the bunker but Dean had no idea if he would turn up or when. That left him with nothing, absolutely nothing helpful that he could do, except to find a bottle of something potentially poisonous and drown himself in it.

He felt the shinigami behind him before he heard her. "You drink?" he asked.

"No," Kevin's voice answered. "Not while I'm working."

He looked back at her. She stood there, looking for all the world just like Kevin Tran without the fidgeting . He wondered distractedly if she would like tacos as much as her predecessor. She was waiting to ask him something. "What do you need?" he asked.

"I'm sorry to bring this up," she said, "but we need to deal with Kevin's body."

Dean narrowed his eyes, looking at the body standing before him, trying to see if there was an apparent problem. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"As a hunter," the shinigami began, "don't you have a special way of dealing with death…? A hunter's funeral?" She seemed uncertain about her choice of words but was willing to follow Dean's traditions no matter what they might incur.

"But," he started gesturing awkwardly to the body before him. "What about..?" He floundered, gave up and dropped his hands to his side. "Don't you need it?"

She met his discomfort with confusion, frowning. "What?" she asked. Suddenly she caught his meaning and Kevin's eyes flew wide. Dean could almost imagine the girl inside. "No. No, no, no. This isn't Kevin Tran's body. No," she insisted with a slight hint of disgust. "This is a false body made to appear as Kevin Tran. A gigai."

Dean recalled Crowley's use of the word. He didn't understand it at the time and had dismissed it as unimportant, just another tool to dig at the shinigami. He was right about that. It was a tool. "A hunter's funeral," he said. He put down the bottle he didn't remember picking up. "Kevin deserves no less."

"Another thing," she said, stopping him before he thought of leaving. Dean looked at her expectantly. At this she seemed to be channeling Kevin's perpetual discomfort. She pointed vaguely at his hand. "May I see your wrist?"

"Why?" he asked while simultaneously holding out his left hand.

She stepped forward and carefully attached a silver bracelet to his wrist. He held it up and looked it over gamely. It was a simple chain with a small charm attached engraved with Japanese kanji. He glanced at the shinigami, pursing his lips. "I'm really not into man jewelry."

Kevin's eyes rolled, a frequent expression of his. "It's functional, not ornamental," the shinigami said. "We have discovered that a human's ability to see us depends on how much in the way of spirit particles he has absorbed. This will accelerate that process."

He frowned, looking at the bracelet again. "How long do I have to wear this?" he asked.

The shinigami looked down. "I don't know," she admitted. "You're the first one who has ever worn it."

"Great," he huffed in frustration. He brushed past the shinigami to gather what he would need for Kevin's funeral. He muttered almost to himself as he left. "As long as this doesn't mean we're going steady."

Dean watched the flames from the funeral pyre rise into the darkened sky as his mind bent towards thoughts of revenge. The shinigami had come with him, insisting that if their actions were observed word might get back to the angel in Sam. The question wouldn't be with the body in the fire but with the image of the young man watching who was supposed to be dead. Dean didn't argue. He had grown too tire to argue. He was just grateful that she seemed to respect his need of silence.

That wasn't the only thing she understood. Without a word she reached out and nudged his arm, handing him something. Dean looked down at the offering. The bottle of bourbon he has selected earlier. The same one he had put back so that he could go and bury his friend. He took it from her and fought back the tears that began to form behind his eyes. She nodded with Kevin's visage and stepped back. The whole quiet interaction translated as 'you look like you could use a drink'. He unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured the warm liquid down his waiting throat.

"So," he began, still watching the fire before him. "What do I call you?" He wanted a distraction now and talking with her was the only one available.

"I have no objections to you calling me 'Kevin'," she replied.

"No," Dean said quickly, meeting Kevin's eyes with a warning. "I don't care if it would help fool the angels. I won't call you 'Kevin'." He sighed heavily wiping his hand across his face. He didn't mean to snap and he tried to make his next words softer. "Crowley said you're some kind of lieutenant."

The shinigami considered this briefly and nodded, "You could call me Lieutenant—"

"No," Dean said quickly, cutting her off. "I'm not calling you Lieutenant Anything unless I'm making fun of you." He stepped up to her. Looking down at what looked like Kevin Tran, he took another long pull from his bottle. "What's your name?"

Pursing Kevin's lips, she met his eyes. She would rise to his bait. "Nanao."


	5. Chapter 5

"Apparently when the angels fell, this panel lit up like stars," Nanao said into the headset hooked onto the ear of her gigai. She still had not gotten comfortable with the sound of her voice or the way the hands manipulated the tools she used. She felt like she wore a coat that was too big with sleeves that were too long and parts that just didn't feel right. She tried to focus her attention on the minute moves she had to make to attach the organic signal booster to the external sensor. The voice in her ear crackled with static. She reached up and pushed headset in tighter. "Could you repeat that?" she asked, "The signal is breaking up."

She slid out from under the main table and its open controls. Now that she was standing, she could hear a man's voice coming through the earpiece, some low level officer from the 12th division. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Ise," he said, his voice sounding strangely tinny, "This connection is unstable. We will be disconnected any second." 'Will' not 'might'.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, which felt strange since it wasn't her own nose. She missed her glasses. "Can we open the Senkaimon?" she asked. She already knew the answer.

"I'm sorry but we have strict orders to keep all gateways closed except for emergencies." The officer's voice was already growing faint. She wished that she could recall his name. So many shinigami from squad 12 were killed or confined to squad 4 for healing.

"I understand," she replied. She wanted to get off of the communication line. This was getting her nowhere. Without the step-by-step technical support of the 12th division mechanics, she had to rely on her own, very rusty skills to rebuild the main sensor panel. Without the extensive layers of Seiretei's archives, she would not be able to translate the Proto-elamite of Kevin Tran's notes. She disconnected and placed the headset on the table. She was on her own.

Suddenly a light on the panel blazed with brightness. Half of a second later, a half assembled alarm began to bleat a warning. Nothing close to the sound of a klaxon but enough to wake Dean Winchester from his labored sleep.

Dean sat up in his bed and realized the soft wail of an alarm had dragged him to the surface of consciousness. He rubbed his hands over his face and pulled himself to his feet. He had expected to feel the effects of the bourbon he downed before he had collapsed but he only felt the grogginess of a sudden end of sleep. He vaguely remembered Nanao saying something about her captain being a drinking man and how she knew how to handle him. He recalled skepticism at the time but now he wondered if she had done something to him while he slept. He really shouldn't have felt this ….normal. Questions for another time.

A handful of staggered steps brought him to the railing and he looked over the edge to see Kevin's form hunched over the table. "What's going on?" he called.

The shinigami turned and met his eyes. "As far as I can tell, an angel is approaching the bunker," she replied.

"As far as you can tell," he echoed as he raced down the stairs to reach the main room. "How far is that?"

"Not very," Nanao admitted with Kevin's voice. She held up a handful of loose wires for illustration. "I wasn't finished putting it all back together."

Sound from the bunker's entrance bounced down the corridors towards them. Both of them focused their attention towards it. "Could it be Sam?" Dean asked, hoping his voice didn't sound as desperate as he thought it did.

Unexpectedly the shinigami took hold of Dean's arm to pull him behind her. For what? Protection? The image of Kevin standing in front of him like that was absurd. Yeah, absurd. To think of the scene in any other way hurt too much.

"Dean?" a gravelly voice called out from the path to the main room.

Dean released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "In here, Cas," he called in response. Nanao glanced back at him for confirmation. "It's okay," he told her. "It's Cas."

She nodded and turned to the table and picked up the wires she had shown him a moment ago. She wanted to disguise herself in work so that she wouldn't have to explain herself to the angel just yet.

The angel Castiel entered the main room. He wore his trademark trenchcoat and his penetrating gaze fell immediately on Dean looking for any outward sign of any injury or damage. "I'm sorry that I couldn't get here sooner," he said. "The car that I was using ran out of gas a few miles north. "

"That's okay, man," Dean replied. He took a few steps towards his friend when he realized that the angel's entire attention was focused on 'Kevin'. "I'm just glad you made it," he added. He tried to casually block his view, but Castiel craned his neck past Dean's shoulder to get a better view of the prophet.

He met Dean's gaze then and frowned at the wide grin on his face. "That is not Kevin Tran," he announced simply.

The plastered smile disappeared immediately as Dean slumped his shoulders in resignation. "No, Cas," he said, "That is not Kevin. A lot of things happened since we last talked." He heard the shinigami coming forward.

Kevin's body bent at the waist in a gesture of respect. "I had no intention of deceiving you," she said formally. "I am Lieutenant Ise Nanao of Squad Eight of the Thirteen Court Guard."

Castiel's eyes grew wide. He wasn't deep in thought or struggling to find an understandable way to express himself. He had the appearance of someone struck severely by utter disbelief. "I thought that your kind were confined," he said with rough quietness.

"We are," the shinigami assured him.

Dean reached out to usher the dumbstruck angel out of the room. "Yeah," he said dismissively, "but she got a hall pass."

Castiel twisted from Dean's guiding arm to look back at the shinigami who looked like Kevin Tran. "She?" he asked incredulously.

Nanao sighed to herself once they left and looked down at the work she had before her. Aside from putting the panel back together, she needed to run some recognition software so that the next time Castiel came to the bunker the system didn't automatically label him as an enemy. She needed to see if she could find some trace reiatsu of Sam and the angel inside him so that he could be identified as well. If she couldn't lure him back, she had to track him herself.

She wondered briefly about the conversation Dean must be having with the angel. She knew that he would not cast himself in a kind light. He blamed himself for more than his share of this situation. He was simply out of his depth. That's why she was assigned here. No one she knew was without sin. Castiel's reiatsu had a strange feeling. His power was not his own. He had obviously taken it from someone else. He had his reasons for breaking the rules. This had become a desperate war. That was a situation she had become very well acquainted with. She looked down at Kevin's notes. Maybe she could find something from the angel tablet that could help stabilize Castiel's borrowed grace. Something she could maybe mix with kido.

Unfortunately her access to Proto-elamite translation was in Seiretei.

Dean watched Castiel absorb everything he told him. He had already dealt with the smattering of platitudes. The 'you shouldn't blame yourself' and the 'you did what you had to do'. He wouldn't accept them, not now. He had to wait until he emerged from the other side of this ordeal before he could think about assigning fault to anyone but himself. He thought briefly of Nanao's reaction to this mood of his. She had said nothing and supplied his alcoholic appetite. He almost smiled. "So," he said, breaking the moment of self-flagellation, "Death has thrown his hat in the ring."

Castiel frowned and pretended to understand the reference his friend meant. "I know next to nothing about the shinigami, but you are right," he said, rising from his chair. "Death is not one to idly break rules."

Dean stared into an unseen future as he contemplated Castiel's words. "I can't even tell if this is a good thing," he admitted.

"Or where it will end," the angel added. His comment cast a darkness Dean had not considered. Nanao was here to help him but what happened when her task was done? Did she go back to where she came from or did she stay? Were others of her kind coming? How many others were there? What did any of it mean?

Without agreeing to their destination out loud, Dean and Castiel found themselves back at the main room where they had left the shinigami. She wasn't there. The wires had been put back together and the panel was closed. Her tools laid atop the map display, neatly arranged in rows. She had cleaned up and left.

Dean looked past every doorway that led off of the main room. His heartbeat grew louder with each second that he couldn't find her. The image of Kevin's dead sightless body flashed in his mind. Once again, he almost called out the young man's name. He wiped his hand across his face, drawing in his panic. "Nanao!" he called.

"Dean," Castiel's voice scratched his name out to draw his attention back to the table. "Kevin's notes aren't here," he announced. "Could she have taken them?"

Dean pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and cursed viciously. "Dammit!" he swore, aiming his frustration to overturn a chair with a kick.

"You know where she took them?" Castiel observed patiently.

"Yeah," Dean said. "She took them to make a deal with a devil."

Author's note: I wanted to take a moment to thank my faithful reviewer, SoraLink. It's amazing how encouraging receiving reviews are. I'm going to make a concerted effort to review anything that I read of quality. Writing can be so hard! I hope all of you who are reading this have been keeping up with the Bleach manga. So much has happened there since the end of the anime. Character deaths, so much change, new Bankais to be seen. I placed Nanao in this story because at this point in Bleach, she has something to prove. At some point in future chapters we will see Seiretei and I just want you to be ready for what you see there.


	6. Chapter 6

Nanao entered the steel walled room which held Crowley, the self-proclaimed King of Hell, and she slid the door closed behind her. As she turned to face him, she hugged Kevin Tran's notebooks to her chest. She understood from Dean's inference that Kevin had had to face the demon like this before. She wondered how well the boy had fared. "I understand that you can help me with these," she said. She stepped forward and placed one of the notebooks on the table before him. She opened it and indicated a page covered with hand drawn pictographs.

Crowley smiled with predatory glee. "My brand of help doesn't come cheap," he remarked. "But I'm intrigued with what sort of payment I could get out of you."

The eyebrows on the face of Kevin Tran arched slightly. "I suspect that Kevin exchanged blood," Nanao said evenly, "but I can't offer that." She gestured to the shackles at his wrists. "Dean is in possession of the keys so I can't give you any sort of freedom, even if I wanted to. But," she paused and the hint of a smile played across Kevin's lips, "I think I have something that you want."

Once again ignoring his chains, Crowley leaned forward and rested his chin in his hand. "And what, Love, would that be?" he asked.

"Information," Nanao answered simply.

The King of Hell chuckled softly. He didn't see just yet what she was offering. "Information?" he repeated.

Nanao tried to infuse more confidence into Kevin's stance as she leaned over and braced her hands on the table to stare the demon in the eyes. "I seem to recall that you had some questions about the Winter War—"

Crowley bolted upright. The chains around him rattled fiercely. "You're bluffing," he accused. "Your people are far too secretive."

She reached for the notebook and tapped the page again. "One question in exchange for a page of translation."

He regarded her for a moment. She could see him rein in his enthusiasm, masking it behind his usual sly wit. "That doesn't seem like a fair exchange," he said, while subconsciously licking his lips. "Three questions per page," he countered.

Nanao straightened, shaking her head. "No, no more than two," she answered. "I'll answer one question, you translate the page and then I will answer your other question."

His eyes focused on the page before him as he considered the offer. "You know, ever since I saw you," he said. He tilted his chin towards her. "The real you, not the false body of the college boy." His gaze upon her intensified as if he could see through her gigai. "I've been trying to place you."

Nanao bristled under his scrutiny.

Crowley leaned back in his chair and made to relax in his chains. "I sifted through every scrap of information we managed to pull from Tousen Kaname's memory. I just can't place you." He smiled as if he were uncovering a dark secret. "I have no idea whose lieutenant you are."

Nanao feigned indifference. She needed information from him, not just the translation but she needed to discover what, if anything, he knew about Seiretei. "Is that your question? Who's my captain?" she asked.

"No," he replied, his smile taking on a more malevolent edge. "I want to know what your role was during the Winter War." He leaned upon the table again, his study of her intensifying. "As far as I can tell, you weren't there. I have a sense of all those who were present in the false town. You weren't there. Less than a dozen officers were sent to Heuco Mundo. You don't match the personalities of any of them." He almost strained at his chains to pull closer to her. His voice became velvety smooth as it dropped to a whisper. "That is my first question. While the rest of your comrades laid their lives on the line? Where were you?"

Nanao knew exactly what he was trying to do. She had had every intention of being at her captain's side as they faced Aizen but she received orders otherwise. She was left behind and she would not let that demon find out how badly that had hurt her. She relaxed the Kevin gigai into a position of a soldier 'at ease'. "I was in Seiretei," she replied coolly, "Someone had to keep order there." Nevermind that she suffered the fate of not knowing who would live or die. Nevermind that she found out afterward of her captain being reunited with his former lieutenant. She swallowed the uncertainty and jealousy behind Kevin Tran's face.

Suddenly a bright grin spread across the demon's face. "I know who you are now!" he declared, practically jumping in his chair. "You're that bookish lieutenant who looks after the pacifist drunkard."

Nanao continued to school Kevin's face to express no emotion. She wasn't surprised at the vision Tousen held of her captain. Kyoraku wore that persona for most of Seiretei. Few saw past it. That deception was one of his most powerful weapons. Was. Not anymore. He had no further use for it as soutaichou. She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I suppose that is one way of describing me," she replied. "Satisfied?"

Crowley continued to look at her for a moment, trying to raise the tension or spot a sign of weakness, she couldn't tell. Finally, he sighed. "You did answer my question," he said. "If I'm not satisfied with the quality of response then I suppose the burden falls on me to design a better question."

Nanao reached down and pushed the opened notebook towards him. "Your turn," she said simply.

"Very well," he sighed and leaned forward to peer more closely at the page before him. "I am a man of my word."

Before he could realize that she had momentarily distracted him, a flash of light enveloped him, cocooning him and then diminished with the speed that it had appeared. He looked up at her with rage and indignation. "What the bloody hell was that?!"

She had braced her hands before her in the symbol of the kido she had just cast. She tried not to smile at his discomfort. "Just a modified binding," she replied.

"Binding?!" he roared. "Have you not noticed the chains? The devil's traps?! I can't leave! I can't move!"

She folded her arms across her chest as she calmly explained. "Now, you also can't lie."

Dean stepped back from the other side of the door as the volume of Crowley's anger penetrated the steel. He and Castiel had raced to the demon's holding area once they realized Nanao had taken Kevin's notes. He had had every intention of bursting in on the scene and swinging his bravado around. He had worried. About what, he wasn't sure. By the time he reached the door he realized that what he feared most was losing what little control he had had left. Then he had stopped. Death had placed her here to help. He had no idea what she could do. Should he trust her?

So he had stopped at the door. He had stopped and listened. At Crowley's outburst, he smiled.

"Should we go in?" Castiel asked quietly from behind him.

Dean shook his head. "That's what I was going to do but…." He regarded the angel with a half-cocked grin. "I think now that we should sit this one out." With his face still turned towards his friend, he leaned closer to the door to catch the now much softer words. "I can't believe it. She's actually doing it."

"Doing what, Dean?" the angel asked.

"She's making him translate Kevin's notes."

Crowley pushed the notebook away from him. For a moment his façade had slipped and he truly seemed tired. "I don't see how that was of any use to you," he remarked, half-heartedly trying to dig at her. "Next time you should let me choose which page I translate."

She reached for the notebook, finding a certain sense of home in the simple act of holding a book. "Every piece of knowledge we can gain is helpful," she replied almost like a recitation. She hugged the notes to her chest and met his gaze bracing herself for the inevitable. "What is your second question?" she asked. She had run through various possibilities of questions stemming from his fascination with the Winter War. So much had happened after Tousen had died.

With barely a hesitation, Crowley issued his question like a verbal challenge. "How large was the invasion force into hell?"

Nanao couldn't disguise the surprise that appeared on Kevin's face. His question caught her completely off guard. "What?"

"You heard me," Crowley stated, satisfied at her discomfort. "How many shinigami invaded hell during that incursion?"

She understood at once what he was attempting. Tousen's memories had only shown him shinigami battle shinigami, shinigami battle arrancar, espada. All of them were unknown powers. He had no known quantities to measure the strength. But shinigami battling in Hell? That he could measure. She relaxed as a trace of a smile broke across Kevin's face. "I don't think you will like my answer," she said.

The demon king leaned forward and brought his voice down to a deadly whisper. "The only answer I won't like is the one you don't give."

She sighed, moving closer to him to match his quiet volume. "Very well, then," she said as if she were sharing a secret. "The invasion was a personal one and not authorized by the Captain Commander—"

"I don't care about that," he snapped, interrupting her.

"Only that it was small, by necessity," she continued unphased.

"Numbers, Love," he insisted, "all I want are numbers."

"Three."

Crowley rocked back in his chair, stunned. "You lie," he accused.

"Three shinigami," she clarified, "and a quincy."

His face was a mask of cold calculation. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not. He didn't even focus on her but on some fixed point at the end of his train of thought. "They nearly broke the Gates of Hell," he muttered mostly to himself.

"I know."

Dean looked up as the visage of Kevin Tran emerged from Crowley's cage. He tried to gauge the shinigami's state of mind but he still had trouble seeing past the outer image of his dead friend. She nodded to him and the angel and gave a weak smile, almost as if she had expected them. "So you heard?" she asked.

Dean nodded and for lack of anything better to do, jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "There's a way around holy oil," he said, stating what he overheard through the door. "So trapping them may not work."

Nanao had pulled out a pen and made a small notation on the page Crowley had translated. "Only if the angel we trap has the same information," she answered. Tucking the pen back in her pocket and the notebook under her arm she looked back at Dean and shrugged. "In that case, I can always try kido."

Dean arched his eyebrows at her. "Is that what you did to Crowley?" he asked, curious and faintly amused.

She nodded. "That was a low level binding that I altered to keep him from lying." She leveled her gaze at him and added almost as a warning, "I have others with much greater strength."

"Were you there?" The question rasped through the air. Like a ghost, Dean could almost believe he imagined it but he looked to Castiel to find the angel staring at the shinigami with the same pained expression he perpetually wore. He seemed to be giving the shinigami a measure of distance keeping the reasons to himself.

Nanao heard him. "Where?" she asked with Kevin's youthful voice.

Castiel scowled. "Hell," he answered.

Nanao shook her head, a flicker of regret passed across Kevin's face. "No," she answered simply. "I only read the report." She bowed slightly and glanced between the two of them. "If you gentlemen would excuse me, I still have work to do." She left them to make her way to the main room.

Dean frowned at the angel who looked down, hopelessly lost in thought. "What was that about?" he demanded.

Castiel looked up at him. He didn't really want to explain himself but he wouldn't lie either. Dean watched him consciously weighing the decision and then visibly relaxing as he began to speak. "That invasion of hell that Crowley was questioning her about," he paused to wait for Dean's acknowledgment. "I know of it. I was there… and so were you. That invasion was the distraction that allowed me to free you."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had spent the last few years doing his level best to forget about his time in Hell. Now, with Castiel's pronouncement, he couldn't help but try to remember. His time there had brought out the worst in him, the monster within the man. To think about it now physically hurt him, like gouging at a wound that had been hidden and protected. But he wanted to know almost as bad as Crowley had. What kind of power did they have? If he had witnessed it, he wanted to remember it but each time he thought he could sense it in the back of his mind, the image, the feel of it skidded away from him. He had reached the point where the impression of the memory resembled more wishful thinking than reality. He opened his eyes and held his hand up to his face. The bracelet that Nanao had given him dangled before him. He had almost forgotten that he had it. How long before wearing it became as natural as wearing a weapon?

He nearly tossed himself out of his bed. Sleep was useless to him now. When Nanao and Castiel had surprisingly joined forces to convince him to try to get more sleep, he stubbornly had left his boots on. These boots now slapped the floor. With the smoothness of habit, he blindly reached for a weapon to tuck away for safe keeping. Even in the safety of the bunker he no longer thought of it as paranoia but practicality. He firmly decided to not be helpless. Sam was his brother. Kevin died on his watch. He had to find something useful to do even if he ended up holding a flashlight for Nanao, like he used to for his dad when he was little.

He stopped for a moment and lingered on that thought. That's what was wrong with this. Somehow he had become like the little kid again. He had thought he almost had some sense of power, then everything went to hell. He thought of all of the times he told someone to stay put, that he would take care of everything. Now, he could see how frustrating that feeling was. Maybe he shouldn't be running out to meet the enemy head on but he damned sure wasn't going to sit on the sidelines while his angel friend and the hired help did all the work. He put some speed back into his step as his determination rose. He would find something, anything to be a part.

Suddenly Dean found himself lying flat on his back looking up at the ceiling. He could feel the sensation of a bruise forming on his forehead. He had just walked into a wall. An invisible wall. As he brought his hands up to his face to assess his injuries he felt the soft brush of a presence around him, the light touch of something unseen touched his skin and the distant echo of a woman's voice spoke his name. As quickly as all of that happened, the feminine presence disappeared. He propped himself up into a sitting position and Kevin Tran came into view.

"Are you alright?" the young man's voice said to him, extending a hand to help him back on his feet.

Unlike the last time this offered hand reached for him, Dean grasped it and used the strength to stand. Rubbing his wounded forehead for emphasis, he asked, "What the hell was that?"

Nanao 's embarrassment blazed across Kevin's face. "I was practicing a new kido," she said, "a type of shield, 'Hakudan Keppeki'." She focused on his face, appraising it for damage. "You were supposed to be sleeping."

Dean waved off her attention and ignored her comment about what he was supposed to be doing. "Well, your new trick works," he remarked wryly.

"On you," she agreed. She stretched her arms casually from one side to the other. She looked a bit like someone trying to settle on a big coat. Dean realized then that she had only put on Kevin's form for his benefit. She had done so quickly, only now having the opportunity to adjust. "Unfortunately it's not designed for you."

"You were supposed to be sleeping," Castiel echoed. His rough voice called out from a desk up the short range of steps. The angel was seated, his hand grasping a page in Kevin's notebook, his expression full of concern.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "that's the rumor." He passed the shinigami and pushed himself up the stairs to meet the angel. He looked down at the notebooks on the table. "What're you doing?" he asked with a bare minimum of interest.

Castiel regarded the notes in his hand and said, "I am attempting to commit Kevin's notes to memory."

Dean furrowed his brow. That seemed like a monumental waste of time. "Why?"

Nanao had followed him up the stairs. "Kevin Tran translated the entire angel tablet into Proto-Elamite," she answered. "Those notebooks are just as valuable as the tablet, if not more."

"You don't have to be a prophet to translate this," Castiel added, holding up the notes for illustration. "You just need to be able to translate Proto-Elamite."

Dean nodded and rubbed his face. He understood. "You're going to destroy the notes," he said. "Damn." He pulled out a chair across from Castiel and sat down. Looking at the weird little pictures, he could imagine the impossibility of the task. The idea of it made him feel very tired. Trying to memorize all those seemingly useless symbols felt too much like school.

Suddenly an alarm sounded. Not the quiet, persistence of the sound that had alerted them to Castiel's arrival. This one could not possibly be ignored. Like a klaxon, it was serious. It was loud.

Castiel looked to Dean for his reaction. Dean watched as Nanao jumped down the stairs and read the now illuminated lights of the panel. "Angels," she said, "right outside the bunker. Multiple signals."

"Sam?" Dean asked.

Nanao turned to face him. Kevin's dark eyes focused on him with worry. She nodded.

Dean started for the door before he gave any thought of what to do. Castiel caught him by the arm. He tried to shove the angel away but his rough voice stopped him. "Let the shinigami handle him," he said.

Nanao reached under the lighted table and yanked a wire loose from its connection. The alarm immediately fell silent. She stepped away from the table, keeping herself between the entranceway and Dean and Castiel. She wanted to make sure Kevin Tran was the first thing the angels met.

Dean balled his hands into fists. "I have to do something," he growled. The idea of Kevin Tran protecting him sent his thoughts reeling into dark places. Vulnerable. Defenseless.

The argument was lost as his brother Sam entered the main room. He stopped upon seeing them. His gaze brushed over Dean and Castiel before settling on the image of Kevin Tran blocking his way. His focus intensified as he studied him.

For a moment, no one moved.

"You are not Kevin Tran," Sam's voice said at last. Stilted, hoarse from lack of use, lack of emotion, no trace of Dean's brother in its sound.

"That's because you killed him, you son-of-a-bitch," Dean snarled. He tried to launch himself forward but once again, Castiel held him back.

The shinigami ignored Dean's outburst and answered the angel inside of Sam. "You're right," she said evenly, "I'm not."

Confusion and concern crossed Sam's features as the possessing angel realized the trap. "You did this to lure me here," he stated.

Dean watched as Nanao slowly took one step back, not to turn away. A fighting stance to brace herself. "You have something that doesn't belong to you," she stated. She brought Kevin's hands up, quickly drawing a triangle in the air. "Shitotsu Sansen," she said forcefully. Glowing yellow tendrils issued from the points of the invisible triangle and shot towards Sam. The beams of light struck his body forcing him back against the wall, pinning him there under a glowing net.

If his arms had not been flattened against his sides as the binding spell held him still, Dean believed his brother would be thrashing. He could see the strain to break free as he struggled. "What have you done?!" he cried out. "What are you?"

"I am giving you one chance to leave this vessel," Nanao declared. "If I have to make you leave, I promise, it will be unpleasant."

Sam glared at the shinigami, still incredulous that this being that looked like Kevin Tran had trapped him. What other unexpected power could materialize from this unsuspecting form? "I did not come here alone," he warned.

"We know," she answered.

"Where did you get a following in two days?" Dean asked suddenly. He had walked forward, stepping down the steps toward Nanao, his focus entirely on the angel inside his brother.

"It's not his," Castiel answered for him, only steps behind Dean. "It's Metatron's."

The sound of dozens of footsteps carried from the entrance. Nanao turned to Dean. She looked so uneasy in Kevin's form. Their time was running out and she couldn't say all that she wanted to him. "I can't do this next part in my gigai. I'm sorry," she said.

Kevin crumpled in front of him.

He didn't even have half of a breath to call out. Half a dozen people rushed into the main room. Four men and two women, ranging in age from late teens to early fifties, all dressed as if they had just come from church. Angels in willing vessels. Dean reached behind him for the angel blade he had tucked in band of his pants. Before his fingers wrapped around the hilt he felt the familiar push of angel power against him. He flew off of his feet into the ceiling fixture and into unconsciousness.

Castiel watched as Kevin Tran's form became an empty husk and fall to the floor. Dean had moved forward to meet the angels coming for him and just as quickly one of them had flung him away. Without further thought, his own angel blade slipped into his hand. He stepped up to protect his friend. The closest angel had already drawn his weapon. No doubt the others had been as well equipped. He was ready to kill them. Using his own body as a shield, he placed himself between the angels and Dean's unconscious form. He brought the sword up to block the incoming attack.

"Seki," a woman's voice called. The attack didn't reach him. The angel's blade struck an invisible barrier that had sprung up between Castiel and the oncoming enemies.

As the angels tested the unseen shield, Castiel looked to find its source. Using grace to aid his sight he spotted a young woman standing before the trapped figure of Sam. She had a slight build and wore a black kimono with her black hair swept up and pinned to the back of her head. Her dark eyes looked at him through black rimmed glasses. "There are more coming besides these," she told him, referring to the angels still looking for a way to attack him. "Too many of them," she added, "we have to retreat."

"Where can you go?" the angel in Sam asked. His intelligent eyes seemed to strain to focus on her. "No matter your strength, there are too many of us to make an escape."

Nanao reached up to affix an ear piece to her right ear. "Lieutenant Ise requesting emergency access to Senkiamon," she announced. She focused on Sam's face as she waited for response from a voice only she could hear. Over her shoulder she tossed a question to Castiel. "Can you carry him?"

Castiel nodded and began to heft his unconscious friend over his shoulders. The angels on the other side of the barrier had begun to focus their attacks, both physical and with the force of their grace, onto a specific spot. The concentrated effort would probably be enough to shatter his little bit of protection. Staggering under Dean's extra weight, he made his way to the shinigami's side.

Nanao had drawn a long sword from a scabbard at her side. Facing away from the still bound Sam, she plunged the tip of the blade into the empty air before her. She then turned the hilt of the sword as if it were a key in a lock. In front of her a set of ornate doors suddenly materialized and slid open to reveal an open space filled with blinding light. She placed her hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave him a gentle push towards the open doors. "Go," she directed, "just keep running until you get to the end. You'll know when to stop."

The angel firmly planted his feet refusing to move.

She understood his hesitance. "I'm not leaving without Dean's brother," she said simply.

"I will not release him," Sam's voice declared. "I would kill him first."

Nanao's earnest eyes locked with Castiel's. "I've got this," she said. She tried to convey as much of her confidence to him as she could. He didn't want to leave her. There was so much danger and not enough trust built between them. "Please go, you'll be safe, I promise," she added. The desperate plea etched across her face as it had through her words. "I will follow as soon as I can." She slid a red, fingerless glove onto her right hand. The sound of cracking glass behind him signaled that the shield erected would break any second.

No other choice to make, Castiel nodded to her and stepped into the light of the open doors. He stopped once inside and looked back towards Nanao. Without having to worry about him or Dean, she now gave her full attention to Sam.

"I don't have the time to be delicate about this," she said, "so this is going to hurt." With that she thrust her gloved hand into Sam's chest. Castiel turned and fled with Dean into the light.

As he ran he could hear Sam screaming.

Next: Soul Society.


	8. Chapter 8

Nanao stumbled into the darkened tunnel of the Dangai. Sam Winchester's unconscious body was far too heavy a load for a woman her size. She could only imagine how comically out of proportion her tiny frame looked under his bulk. She felt ahead of her to sense Castiel and Dean's reiatsu. She could sense them steadily moving further away. Bracing herself for the sudden start she hoped to charge she focused her own reiatsu to release a burst of speed.

Shun-po was difficult but not impossible with a passenger. She surged ahead measuring the distance between herself and Castiel. She managed to skid to a sudden stop several feet ahead of him. Sam's weight threatened to topple to the ground as she turned to face him.

She figured from the surprise on his face that her shun-po had made her seem to appear from nowhere. His gaze moved to Sam before he spoke. "Lieutenant Ise?" he began. "Is Sam…?"

"He is still suffering from extensive internal injuries," she replied while trying to catch her breath and disguise the worry evident in her voice. "But he is alive and angel free." She readjusted the weight she carried and began to move towards their destination. "We need to get him to the Soul Society for healing."

Matching her pace, Castiel followed, under the weight of his own Winchester brother. "How did you force the angel out?" he asked.

"The glove I used is for forcing the soul out of the body," she explained. "I tried to work around his soul to reach for … the other." She lengthened her stride. Her strength was beginning to wane. "He really didn't want to leave. Instead of pushing, I pulled. It wasn't pleasant." The tone of her voice let him know that she didn't want to talk about it further.

His eyes kept moving back to study her as they traversed the tunnel. She knew his mind must be a storm of questions just waiting for the right moment to pour out. "I could try to heal him," he offered.

She shook her head, not slowing. "That may not be a good idea," she replied. "Your grace isn't what you are used to."

He frowned, uncertain in this role of answering to the shinigami. He labored to think of how Dean would respond but couldn't come up with anything that he himself would say. Finally he spoke, the weight of silence being too much. "You appear clearer than before," she stated lamely. He struggled with his choice of words. "When you left the form of Kevin Tran, I could see you but it was difficult."

Nanao nodded with understanding. "When you and Dean passed through the doors, your physical bodies were converted to spirit particles." She glanced back at him and Dean with the nasty raised mark on his forehead. "You won't feel any differently and your vessel will behave as always but you are essentially the same as I am."

Castiel appeared thoughtful at this revelation. She braced herself for the next question, expecting him to ask about the length of the Dangai and when they would arrive.

"Your armband?" he began. She felt her face flush with unexpected embarrassment. "When you introduced yourself to me, you said that you were with Squad Eight, but your armband has the number one on it."

A bright light appeared directly ahead of them and Nanao picked up her pace to meet it headlong. "Well, that remains to be seen," she said as she plunged into the light.

Nanao stumbled to a stop in a large, seemingly empty room. As Castiel emerged from the Dangai into the well lit room he watched her ease Sam's unconscious body to the floor. The angel took in his surroundings with wide, cautious eyes. They weren't alone. Several shinigami in black uniforms approached them, led by a tall, thin man in a white coat. This man smiled mischievously, tilting his head with curiosity, his blunt cut, blond hair hanging like a curtain around his face.

"Ah, Lieutenant Ise," he greeted in a sing-song voice. "What an unexpected visit and you brought guests!"

"Captain Hirako," Nanao bowed quickly in greeting and then gestured to the man on the floor. "This man needs to be taken to Squad Four. He has internal injuries. Captain Unohana needs to see him immediately."

The blond captain straightened and threw a shout over his shoulder. "Momo!"

A young woman, shorter than Nanao but in identical dress came forward. "Yes, Captain."

He waved his hand at Sam. "Take him to Squad Four," he said simply.

She looked at Nanao and then to Castiel and his burden. "What about him, Captain?" she asked, pointing to Dean.

Captain Hirako grinned. "I think one is enough for you to carry, Momo."

Surprise flashed across her face. She had probably imagined a better way of transporting an injured man to a medical facility but she wasn't about to disappoint her captain's expectations. She murmured an acknowledgment of her orders then hefted the weight of Sam Winchester across her small shoulders. As Nanao must have done in the Dangai, she steadied herself then suddenly flashed away at super speed.

The captain returned his attention to Nanao. All humor had disappeared from his demeanor. "Unohana is gone," he said quietly.

What color she had left in her face disappeared. "Gone..? She was here when I left. She went with the Captain General to meet with Central 46—"

"That's why she's gone," he cut in to explain. Sympathizing with the expression on her face he placed a comforting hand on her shoulders. "She and Zaraki disappeared at the same time. If I suspect correctly, only one will return."

Nanao seemed to process this for a moment then she narrowed her gaze at the blond captain. "Why are you here in Twelfth division?" she asked warily.

Hirako smiled broadly and spread his arms wide. "I go where I am needed," he explained. "Kurotsuchi and his lieutenant have locked themselves away, doing something no one has a clue about." At this, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. "Akon is still at Squad Four dealing with his injuries from the last attack, so our newly appointed Captain General sent me here to meet you."

"Oh," she murmured. She seemed to deflate, the intensity of their escape finally releasing its hold on her. She turned to Castiel for the first time since they had arrived. "Captain Hirako, this is the angel Castiel," she introduced with a formal, business edge forced to her voice. "Castiel, this is Captain Shinji Hirako, captain of Squad Five."

Castiel stepped forward, intent to make himself heard. "I believe I can heal Sam Winchester," he asserted. He recognized that Hirako outranked Nanao. He remembered following a chain of command when Heaven hadn't been in shambles. Through this captain he hoped to bypass the lieutenant's misgivings about the limits of his grace.

"It's still not a good idea," Nanao replied through clenched teeth as Hirako's eyebrows disappeared under his uneven blonde bangs. "He should be arriving at Fourth Squad barracks any moment. An entire squad, I might add, that is devoted to healing."

The angel would not be deterred. "Healing shinigami," he countered. He readjusted the weight of the other unconscious Winchester on his shoulders so that he could strengthen his argument with a penetrating stare. "Sam Winchester is human and still alive. A state that I believe differs greatly to that of a soul reaper."

Captain Hirako whistled suddenly, drawing Castiel and Nanao's attentions to him and putting a temporary ceasefire on their growing discussion. He wore an expression of amused patience. "I'm afraid the both of you have underestimated my forethought, and the wisdom of your captain," he said, directing the latter directly at Nanao who couldn't disguise the blush it caused. "When you first sent your request to open the Senkiamon, I used the other receiving room to open a Garganta."

At this point, a young woman's voice called from the entrance. "Hirako-san!" Pushing through the other shinigami that had gathered there, came a pretty red-headed girl in a pink, short-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. She glanced briefly at Castiel before focusing her attention on the captain. "Urahara-san sent me through. He said you needed me?"

Castiel was speechless. This girl was human.

Hirako smiled and extended his arm to welcome the girl. "Orihime!" he called warmly. "The Soul Society has need for your unique healing skills."

She came forward and studied the unconscious man with curiosity. She reached up to her hair, almost subconsciously but Hirako steadied her hand, stopping whatever she might have been doing. "Not him," he said quietly, "He's just out cold. His brother though has been taken to the Squad Four barracks. Do you think you could find your way there?"

"Of course, Hirako-san," she said brightly.

"And take them too?" he added, indicating Castiel and his burden with a jerk of his thumb.

Orihime's smile grew bigger as she beckoned to Castiel to follow her. He looked to Nanao, who nodded wearily. This is where they would part ways, whether or not he was ready.

Captain Hirako turned back to Nanao once the angel and humans had left. "Is that satisfactory?" he asked mockingly.

"Yes, Captain," she replied, visibly chastised.

The Captain snorted a small crude laugh and began to leave. "You have a report to make, Lieutenant Ise," he called back to her.

"Permission to reopen the Senkaimon," she said unexpectedly.

Hirako stopped. "Why?"

"I have to go back for something."

Next Chapter: Castiel runs into someone who has met an angel before and Dean wakes up at Squad 4.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel had little trouble keeping pace with Orihime as she picked her way down a nearly deserted street, strewn with debris. She barely watched where she placed her feet, keeping her attention instead on finding the clearest path possible along the way. She didn't move quickly. Not with her pace. Her words; however, spilled out in a gushing torrent of near incoherent babble. "I think this way will get us there," she began without looking behind her to make sure he followed …or listened. "I got so used to the wide open spaces of Hueco Mundo. I forgot how the buildings and alleyways all look so similar here, but don't worry, I won't get us lost. I'm following Hanataro's spiritual pressure and I'm sure he'll be in the Squad Four barracks. I can't imagine anywhere else he would be. Your spiritual pressure feels different. I mean, I can tell that he's human," she pointed back at Dean's limp form still propped across his shoulders, "but you—you don't feel familiar. Not shinigami, or hollow, or quincy—"

At this almost question, Castiel felt he could interrupt with an answer, if for no other reason than to give his nervous guide a chance to take a breath in between talking. "I am an angel," he said.

At this Orihime stopped. She turned to face him for the first time since they left the Squad Twelve receiving rooms and for the first time, Castiel could see why she talked endlessly. If she stopped he would have known. She was crying. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and spilled to follow the tracks of those that had already run their course down her face. "A real angel?" she asked. Her voice held a tone of innocence that belied her ample figure.

He had not had much experience being human. Still much of what he felt came through the automatic filter of 'what would Dean Winchester do?' He beheld a beautiful young girl who was crying. It didn't matter that he had only met her or that he was in an unfamiliar place. He couldn't ignore this. Dean wouldn't. He stepped towards her, forcing an expression of what he hoped was concern on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, softening his usually gruff voice.

His simple question renewed the force behind her tears and strangled a bit of a sob from her. She looked around her, at her surroundings, the walls, the cluttered street. "So much is wrong," she cried. Castiel followed her gaze and realized the reason for her tears. "So much is destroyed." This wasn't just some untidy walkway. This wasn't debris. It was the rubble of a broken landscape. Their path from Squad Twelve to Squad Four took them through the aftermath of a battlefield. "People I know, I can't feel them…" Tattered bits of black garment waved in a subtle breeze. The remnants of shinigami uniforms. All around, splashes of ruddy brown. The dried traces of spilled blood. She reached for him, pleaded with tears and words. "Is that why you're here?" she asked. "Are you here to help?"

"Orihime?!" the girl's name rang out from behind him breaking the strain of the moment. Castiel turned to see another shinigami heading towards them. Tall with strawberry blonde hair and silver blue eyes, she wore a lavender scarf around her neck and armband with the kanji for the number ten. Another lieutenant. Were they all women? However, the most noticeable feature of this newcomer was a sizable chest that made the angel very grateful that Dean was still unconscious.

"Rangiku!" Orihime cried with delight. She sidestepped Castiel and threw herself into the welcoming embrace of the other woman. "I'm so glad you're okay."

The shinigami held Orihime apart from her to see her face. "It was a close thing," she replied. Then she frowned, looking at the younger woman with the expression of a scolding mother. "You really shouldn't be here. It's quiet now, but that won't last."

Orihime tried to smile and failed miserably. "I was called to heal…" she stumbled to a stop, unsure of the right words to say next. "Urahara-san told me to come back at the first sign. We were just heading to Fourth Squad." She turned and gestured to the now awkward Castiel.

Rangiku looked at him, appraising him with thoughtful eyes. "It's been a long time since I've seen an angel in the Soul Society," she said with a warm, welcoming smile.

Castiel felt momentary surprise but his stoic face only flickered with a softened hint of wonder. "You have had angels here before?" he asked. He knew so little about the shinigami. Their existence was of fabled confinement. He assumed their world, if not unreachable, was at least off limits to his kind.

Her smile broadened at the fond memory. "Gabriel brought the best sake," she said. "It's been years since he stopped by for a drink."

The thought of the archangel tossing back a drink in the company of shinigami tugged a momentary smile from him. The smile faded as the thought of Gabriel's reality cast his eyes downward. "I'm sorry," he began. "Gabriel perished battling Lucifer."

Rangiku sighed and smiled ruefully. "So he threw himself into the fray. I knew that coward thing was just an act," she said softly. "Thank you for telling me. I had wondered." She then turned to Orihime. "I should let you on your way. I need to find my captain."

Orihime didn't leave her friend right away. She paused and voiced the concern that kept her there. "Toushiro? Is he?"

At the mention of his name, Rangiku's face filled with sorrow, mirroring Orihime's. "They took his bankai…" she said.

Though the words held no meaning to Castiel, he watched as Orihime clasped her hands over her mouth in horror.

Rangiku shrugged helplessly. "It feels so wrong to have him rely on me," she said. "I mean, I'm proud that he can but—"

Orihime had recovered quickly from her shock. "Try not to worry," she said reassuringly. "Urahara-san is close to finding a way to get them back."

Rangiku smiled faintly. "Thank you, Orihime," she said. "I won't give up hope."

#

The first thing that Dean became aware of was the distinct lack of pain. He didn't know for certain why, but he was sure that his head should hurt. The image of a light fixture coming towards him at a high rate of speed flashed through his mind. Unconsciousness caused from trauma to his head usually resulted in pain when consciousness returned. He was lying flat on a cushioned surface. Without opening his eyes he could sense someone moving next to him. Small, furtive movements near his head. Soft, not touching but close. Too close. His eyes flew open as he grabbed the wrist hovering mere inches away from his face. A young man's eyes opened wide with fear as a voice sputtered out, "H-he's awake."

"Dean," Castiel's voice ground out like gravel over concrete.

Dean turned to see the angel sitting on a cot next to his. He released the young man's arm and push him away dismissively. The stranger bowed apologetically and backed away. "Where are we?" he asked, looking around him. "Is this some sort of hospital? It looks like the set of a seventies' kung fu movie."

"We are in the Soul Society," Castiel answered. "Lieutenant Ise opened an emergency passageway to escape Metatron's angels."

Dean tried to focus on what he could remember of the events but before solid images or thoughts formed his instincts threw him into a protective panic. He sat upright in one motion. "Sam!" he cried out reaching for Castiel for an answer, "Where's Sam?!"

The angel held his hands up in a calming gesture. "He's here," he answered quickly. "He is being healed."

"Healed? What about—" Dean stopped himself. The volume of his voice filled the quiet space of the large room. He glanced at the young man who stayed just outside of his reach and barely in his awareness. The young man flinched at his anger but appeared duty bound not to leave. "What about the son-of-a-bitch who was taking him for a joyride?" he added much more quietly.

"Gone," the angel replied without hesitation. "Lieutenant Ise managed to pull the angel out of him before we left the bunker."

The nervous young man stepped forward at this point. "I could take you to him, Mr. Winchester," he offered. His eyes were downcast reminding Dean of someone often targeted by bullies.

"Lead the way, Kato," Dean said, getting to his feet. He groaned inwardly as he realized neither the angel or the shinigami would understand his pop culture reference.

Surprisingly the young man bowed before him. "My name is Yamada Hanataro," he announced as if there had been some sort of misunderstanding. "I am seventh seat of fourth squad."

Dean looked down at Hanataro. "Good for you," he said uncomfortable with the formality. "Lead the way."

As they walked through the large room lined with cots, Dean noticed the number of people there. The room was quiet but strangely full of people, sleeping, resting, healing. He couldn't help but wonder if this was normal for the shinigami's world. He supposed it could be normal for a hospital in any city but…. He looked at the state of the shinigami recuperating around him. They didn't suffer from illness or the onset of age.

They were wounded.

He stopped at a cot near the exit they approached. Bandages nearly covered every inch of the man laying asleep there. Dean looked more closely at the man's face hoping not to invade his privacy.

Were those horns on his forehead?

"What's this guy's story?" Dean asked suddenly.

Castiel and Hanataro stopped in the hallway ahead of him, looking back to see what was holding him in the room.

Hanataro stepped towards him shyly. "That is Third Seat Akon of Twelfth squad," he said in a near whisper. "He was nearly killed holding open the Senkiamon so that Ichigo could come through." He paused, his expression becoming more grave. "If he hadn't, so many more would have died."

Dean wanted to say something. Questions swirled through his mind. Only half of what the young shinigami said made any sense to him. Only one thing was clear enough to understand. Something was hurting these powerful, supposedly isolated people. Before his mind could linger on those thoughts any longer, Castiel called out to him. He rejoined them to go see his brother.

#

Dean stood with Castiel looking into a private, well-lit room where his brother lay unconscious on a cushioned pad on the floor. A young woman with long red hair knelt on the floor next to him. Her fingers hovered bare centimeters before a glowing dome of yellow light that had encased the younger Winchester. Her gaze was intent. Her concentration completely focused on Sam's form within the light.

"What is that?" Dean asked. His words came out softly, almost as if he didn't want to disturb the girl and whatever she was doing.

Hanataro had left them there, serving simply as their guide and nothing more. Castiel answered him. "The girl is Orihime Inoue and she is human."

"Human? Here?" Though his tone was hushed, Dean couldn't hide his surprise.

Castiel nodded. "She possesses a unique ability that manifests itself as small entities that create an energy field that can have different effects depending on the designation."

Dean grimaced at the angel's complicated explanation. He didn't even want to think about 'small entities'. "Short answer is : she can heal," he said abruptly.

Castiel paused for a moment. A frustrated tint of embarrassment lit across his feature. "Yes," he finally answered. "Apparently, she came to the Soul Society for the first time a couple of years ago along with another human, Ichigo Kurosaki."

"That name was mentioned a minute ago," Dean observed. "Like he was some kind of hero."

"Yes," Castiel affirmed. He looked to Dean with intention, hoping his friend would understand what he was trying to convey.

Dean struggled but he caught on to the basic message. "That's going to be important, isn't it?" he asked, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Castiel sighed quietly. "Yes, I'm not sure how yet," he said, "but I think it's going to be very important."

Next: Dean gets to ask Nanao why it's important.


End file.
